


Anomaly

by CrystalRebellion



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalRebellion/pseuds/CrystalRebellion
Summary: Several years in the future, King Zarkon takes his last breath. At his wake, an anomaly appears. (Lotor x Allura) Fluff...ish?  Comfort-ish. One-Shot.





	Anomaly

**Author's Note:**

> Futuristic headcanon.

He had to admit; the turnout was far more than expected. Despite the magnitude of his reign, the late king’s politics had been met with much discord and even outright protest in his later years. In some ways, it had fractured parts of the empire off and decayed the strength and unity of the whole in catastrophic ways. And yet, with the main hall doors wide open and the throne room decorated in reverent black drapery, the room was brimming with constituents from all corners of the galaxy. In the center, an open casket housed a face of fury and ferocity that at last was peaceful. His hands were folded across his chest, his eyes were closed, and he was dressed in the finest of his royal garments. Banners graced the walls depicting exploits, conquered worlds and victories in battle.

Lotor sighed as he regarded his father’s still form. Numb was an apt way to describe the sensation he felt. Despite years of trying to dethrone the old man and even a couple outright assassination attempts in his impetuous youth, he felt neither joy nor excitement, though neither did he feel any sorrow. If anything, he mourned the loss of something so concrete that had been such a significant part of his life. Moreover, it had been old age to get him in the end. For all the wars he had waged, threats on his life and lion ship encounters… in the end, he had simply come to rest in his sleep. The death seemed to be too peaceful for the war king. Lotor couldn't decide if it was an insult to deny him the right to die in battle, or a blessing to give him a quiet rapture.

He sat distantly on his father’s – _his_ , he reminded himself – throne, overlooking the massive crowd of dark-hued figures. Drules from all across the galaxy had gathered to pay their last respects to King Zarkon. A gentle murmur of chatter as people recognized each other, an occasional sob and generic ambient noise filled the somber room. Candles flanked around, illuminating the room with a soft, organic light that flickered as people moved around.

The flow of traffic was predictable. As guests entered the room they would occasionally stop and converse with someone nearby, but then would invariably migrate around toward the dais where the open casket lay. They would pause a moment and linger, perhaps even leave a trinket, token, or passing gift in the casket with the king, and then circulate further into the room to mingle and have some food from the offered banquet. Higher-ranking subjects also took the liberty – and he had no intention of dissuading it for the time – of scaling the staircase to his throne to pay somber congratulations for his crown.

“My Lord,” a voice to his left said. Lotor turned to regard the general standing nearby. He bowed once the new king’s eyes were on him. “Both my condolences and my congratulations.”

“Thank you. There will be a more formal coronation later when the festivities can be in higher spirits,” he commented quietly. “It didn’t feel appropriate to hold them at the same-” Lotor stopped suddenly in the middle of the sentence he had recited fifty times to stand up from his throne as something caught his eye.

“My Lord?”

“Thank you for your wishes, but that will be all.” Lotor absentmindedly waved the man off as his keen eyes focused in on something curious. While the hum of noise was ambient at best and the movement of people predictable, there was an anomaly. Most of the denizens of his empire followed the predictable route and stayed no more than five minutes at most by the coffin. Either they were too overcome to look upon the silent monarch’s face or the presence of the man scared them off, even in death.

One figure lingered.

Fully cloaked from head to toe and a veil over the face, it was impossible to make out any features. After at least ten minutes from when he had first noticed the form, gloved hands reached into the casket and laid a tribute next to Zarkon’s body. The anomaly then once again deviated from the traffic flow and began to make its way back toward the entrance, bypassing the mingling and the food entirely.

Lotor took the steps down from his throne in threes. By the time he navigated the sea of people and arrived at his father’s casket, the cloaked figure was out the door. Glancing into the casket, he saw a myriad of offerings from flowers, pristine weaponry to shades of jewelry. Although sometimes the significance was lost across cultural lines, each piece was given in reverence. Some of the items were important pieces to the owners and passed on to Zarkon as a token of gratitude. Other pieces were items crafted for him specifically, befitting a warrior at rest. Flowers were uncommon on Drule planets and exceedingly difficult to grow, as such they both symbolized respect and wealth.

One piece seemed out of place however, and Lotor was willing to bet his new crown that the mysterious guest had left it. A single golden teardrop coin etched with a strange language rested on Zarkon’s chest. It was nearly hidden among the flowers, jewels and weapons, subdued and modest among the finery. The token wasn’t designed to call attention to itself or flaunt its wealth. It was probably one of the few pieces in the casket that was truly intended for the king himself, without promoting the person leaving it in any capacity.

“My Prince!” As Lotor turned to follow the stealthy figure down the hall, Haggar caught Lotor by the arm. “My apologies, my _King_ – that will take some getting used to – would you like to make a speech?” Lotor tactfully detangled himself from the witch’s grip and glanced down the hallway. The figure was no longer in sight. The passageway was relatively empty, save the occasional guest walking toward him to enter the room.

“In a moment, Haggar. I have something I need to do first,” he said before slipping through the crowd. His pace down the hallway was brisk and determined. It was all he could do to keep from breaking into a jog and alarming the few guests he passed. As they expressed confusion at his departure, he took the aggravating few seconds to explain that he would be right back.

Rounding a corner at a split in the passageway, he exhaled in relief. The corridor before him was long and it was quite empty, besides the shaded figure he had been stalking. The passageway was unused by any of the guests and led to a discreet side entrance. With no one to question him, he broke into a run to catch up. The cloaked figure was halfway to the exit and Lotor intended to quickly close the gap before they walked any further. As he approached, he slowed to a jog and then stopped altogether.

“Allura!”  
  
His voiced echoed down the hallway, merely twenty feet from the mysterious guest that had graced his throne room. Startling at the name, the form tripped a step before continuing to move down the hallway even quicker than before.  
  
“I know it’s you, Allura.” His voice was softer and gentler than before.

It worked.

The figure stilled, but it didn’t turn. Carefully, Lotor approached, coming to stand just behind the darkened form.  
  
It finally reversed, and as it did the cowl fell away, revealing none other than the Queen of Arus herself, her hair braided back and tucked beneath the cloak, only a few flyaway strands framing her face. Her eyes were wide with both incredulity and alarm.  
  
“How?” Her words were wispy as she exhaled, a little out of breath from her faster steps to escape him.  
  
To answer her question, he closed the remaining distance between them, noting the tension that escalated in her body. She didn’t step back nor turn and run though he knew damn well she wanted to. Allura had learned through the years that if she ran, he would pursue and he _would_ win. She had realized all too keenly how the predatory dance between them worked. She was safer if she _didn’t_ flee.  
  
He reached forward and simply, gently took both her hands into his. As he broke the plane of the front of her cloak, it revealed a floor length black bombazine gown underneath it with a reverently pious neckline. It caressed her throat with satin and silk in an antiquated fashion that made him jealous of the fabric. Yet with meticulous reverence, he slowly and carefully tugged off the black gloves covering her hands as he spoke, letting his eyes watch his work to give her some respite from his gaze.  
  
“I always see you, Allura. I know you by your height. By the way you carry yourself – the sway of your hips beneath yards of fabric. I could find you in a room with no lights by your scent alone,” he murmured as her bare hands fell into his. He glanced up to catch the outright confusion etched in her oceanic eyes, a blush flaming across her cheeks as he spoke. “What was the writing on the coin?”  
  
“The-” She paused, her breath caught in her chest as he held both her hands. For the first time in all history, Lotor held her gently. His touch was neither unkind nor was it possessive.  
  
“The coin in the casket; that was from you, was it not?” Lotor glanced down as he felt her trembling in his hold. He squeezed her hands reassuringly and took another step closer. Her head tilted up to maintain eye contact with him.  
  
“Y-yes, yes it was from me,” she conceded in an exhale. Her heart fluttered in her chest at his proximity. In all their time together, very rarely had she had the chance to stand so close to him for any length of time. There had always been combat involved. Now that it was calm between them, she found it peculiar that her heart still raced.  
  
“What did it say? It was in Old Arusian, wasn’t it?”  
  
“You know that language?” Allura gaped at him, another expression of awe and surprise flashing across her face. Lotor found himself decidedly fond of that expression and made a note to himself to try and inspire it from her more often.  
  
“I don’t know it, not well enough to read it. I just recognized it,” he admitted.  
  
“It roughly means ‘Swift journey, glory to the destination’. It sounds a bit trivial once translated, but the implication is, whatever afterlife or god or you worship, may it be grand and glorious,” she explained shyly.  
  
“It’s a lovely sentiment, though I find myself surprised you would bestow it upon my father of all people.”  
  
Allura shook her head once, causing her stray hair around her face to flutter.  
  
“No,” she said firmly. “Death is the thing that unites us all. It doesn’t matter to me what problems we have had in the past, what conflicts were between us; thats all gone. Death is humbling and sometimes even unkind. Though,” she paused, withdrawing her hands from his to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she blushed. “I’d be lying to you if I didn’t admit that part of the reason I came was to see if it was true. While I would never take joy or pleasure in another’s passing, there is a chapter of my life that has now ended with this, for better or for worse.”  
  
Lotor found his hands surprisingly cold with the absence of hers.  
  
“You’re remarkably forgiving,” he commented, drawing his hands back to his sides, still holding her gloves. “I would wager your people wouldn’t be so full of sorrow.”  
  
Again the queen shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she explained. “They aren’t weeping to be sure, but there are no bonfires in the fields or dancing in the streets. The sense of loss weighs on all of us. If nothing else, it’s reminder that we’re all mortal – even the strongest and most immovable of us will eventually find our forever rest.” She stepped back from him, drawing the cloak around her body more.  
  
“Are you going back to Arus now,” as he asked the question, he saw a ripple of tension run through her body as she eyed him warily.  
  
“That is my plan, yes,” she hedged, waiting to see if he would try and stop her. She fully expected him to. He always had before. He had been the entire reason for her disguise in the first place. While she didn’t think she would be particularly embraced by the Drule, she hadn’t wanted to find herself in her very situation; caught within his castle and unable to leave. She braced for his lunge. Her hands balled into fists in preparation to fend the man off, to rebuke his command to halt.  
  
“Very well,” he said. He allowed her to take another step back. “I’d like to see you again. I have quite a bit to do here over the next week – my father left some fractures in our empire that I need to mend quickly to preserve our strength. But once everything settles, would you... like to have tea?”  
  
The blatant shock on Allura’s face was priceless. If it hadn’t been such a reverent meeting with her with precious outcomes at stake, he would have laughed.  
  
A sudden intake of air followed by Allura tugging her cowl down over her face and shoving her bare hands inside her cloak to hide her flesh flagged the appearance of another entity. She turned away and began making a slow, casual exit as Haggar came through a side hallway to meet him.  
  
“Oh, Allura, you’re not fooling me,” she said quickly as the queen passed by her before turning her attention to Lotor. “They’re awaiting your remarks, Sire.”  
  
Allura paused and turned back to look, the hood falling away from her face once more.  
  
“Goodness, am I really that obvious?” She looked frustrated by the amount of time she had taken to trying to conceal herself for so little result.  
  
“Oh, no dearie, you actually blend in quite well,” Haggar replied, looking over to her.  
  
“How did you know then?” Allura found it odd to be having a civil, if not friendly, conversation with the witch.  
  
“It’s his expression. He never has that reaction on his face unless he’s looking at you, specifically,” she finished, cackling softly at Lotor’s sputtering protest behind her.  
  
“Consider my offer?” Lotor called after Allura as she started to back away. It wasn’t begging nor was it demanding. It was simply a request. She thought it over for a moment and nodded.  
  
“I would like that. Contact me once you have more free time and we can speak of the details then,” she replied as she tugged her hood back over her halo of hair one last time and casually made her way down the hallway.  
  
Haggar stood by her king and watched the woman he desired most in the universe leave Castle Doom unhindered. “I’m surprised you would let her go, Sire.”  
  
“It’s true she’s left, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been closer to having her,” he murmured as Allura’s form vanished around the corner.  
  
Haggar just sighed, rolling her eyes. “Time for your remarks, Sire.” She snapped him out of his trance and nudged him back toward the throne room. Reluctantly, he headed back. “You should invite her to your coronation,” she offered helpfully.  
  
“Do you think she would attend?” Lotor seemed surprised as the witch just shrugged.  
  
“She came here, didn’t she? Could it hurt to ask?”  
  
“No, I suppose not,” he mused to himself as he entered the room. With a sigh, he prepared himself to give his final thoughts to his father and lay an era of history to rest with him.


End file.
